The New Spy
by Craving Nostalgia
Summary: The Dark Lord assigned Draco Malfoy a crucial task for his Sixth Year at Hogwarts and it involved Harry Potter's Mudblood friend. Weighed under the command of his master, the scrutiny of Dumbledore and his own guilt, Draco's increasing company with Hermione Granger didn't go as he'd planned—and it proved to make his task all the more difficult.


_Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Harry Potter. I would have continued the series if I did._

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 **The New Spy: Making a Death Eater**

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Draco Malfoy had known the Dark Lord was alive for a whole year now. As the son of a Death Eater, he'd had the privilege of knowing, laughing at the Ministry for their stupidity. He'd had the pleasure of watching the opposers of the Dark Lord struggle with their protests and indignation at the Ministry's ignorance—in particular, he'd had the pleasure of watching Harry Potter loose, for once, of being made the fool.

While Draco was aware of the Dark Lord's return, he had not once met the powerful wizard. Yes, Draco had heard his presence in his own Manor, like the hissing of snakes. Sure, Draco had seen other Death Eaters whose eyes were agleam with murderous fervour, including his Aunt Bellatrix, and Draco felt a twinge of jealousy for the privileges they got to serve such a mighty wizard. Indeed, he had glimpsed the Dark Mark burning stark black against his Father's pale arm, before the man, although he did his best to hide it, flinched slightly, swiftly departing from his son and wife to whatever task he was assigned.

However, when Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic himself, had seen the Dark Lord, the advantage of being incognito was lost. His Father was whisked away to Azkaban, further fuelling Draco's deep hatred for Potter, for Weasley, for the Mudblood.

It was then that Draco was informed he would have the privilege of finally meeting him. Draco had been in his library at the time, fingers brushing over the spines of many volumes filled with different realms of exploration. His mind had briefly wandered to Hermione Granger and the staggering stacks of books she carried with her as she bobbed through hallways, as her bag was full to the brim. With disgust at even _thinking_ about the Mudblood, Draco had dismissed the thought and was eyeing a particularly interesting book on the Dark Arts before his Mother entered. She didn't have to make a sound to announce her presence; whenever she entered the room, there was always a regal air that chipped the air icily. This time was slightly…different. Draco could sense hesitation in her approach, as if she were almost _afraid_. Pretending he was still immersed in the Dark Arts book he'd picked up and skimmed through, Draco waited for her to speak. Back turned to the door, he couldn't see her expression, but he suspected it reflected that trace of fear he sensed.

"Draco, dear…your Aunt has visited, and not alone. The—" Draco could've sworn she choked slightly, "the Dark Lord wishes to meet you."

Just like that, Draco silently exited the library with his Mother, the only betrayer of his emotions being the small smirk playing at his lips. The Dark Lord wanted to meet _him_. For so long Draco had been cast in the shadow of Harry Potter, and he couldn't help but compare himself to the Boy-Who-Lived. Perhaps Draco would be the Messiah for the darkness. In all his excitement, Draco had cast his Mother's strangely fearful demeanour to the back of his mind, thinking her reaction normal. After all, parents were supposed to worry about their children all the time, even as success rolled their way.

As he walked through the meandering hallways of his Manor, he contemplated how his meeting with the Dark Lord could possibly go. Would he become a Death Eater, like his Father? Draco swelled with the pride at the very idea. But, no, that wasn't possible…he was only sixteen. He wasn't even of age. Well, perhaps he would be assigned a smaller task than that of a Death Eater. It certainly would be better than ambling uselessly through school corridors like his classmates, waiting for _something_ to happen in the outside world.

Finally, Draco came to a stop as his Mother did, in front of the dining hall door. His Mother placed her hand on the door handle—then she paused. Inhaling in a shuddering manner, she turned towards him. Her eyes were a panicked frenzy, like stormy seas. Apart from that, her face was normal: lips in a thin line, eyebrows in a dignified position and skin pale (though, perhaps a little paler than usual). The hand that wasn't on the door handle slowly raised to his shoulder. It was ice cold. Draco watched the storm in her eyes.

 _Be careful._

She was warning him, in perhaps the best way she could possibly physically articulate. Not knowing what else to do, Draco gave her reassuring smile, and placed his hand on her cold, cold one. Seemingly satisfied, she reluctantly turned back to the door. The spot on his shoulder where her hand had been seemed even colder than when it had laid there.

His Mother pushed open the grand door to the dining room.

It was a hollow room. Big, yes, but that made it all the hollower. Its only company was a long, glossy dining table, all its chairs, a glinting crystal chandelier…and now, it occupants. The two that just entered, and the three that were waiting. Sitting at one end of the table was his Aunt. Her dark eyes carried that maniacal gleam Draco was used to seeing, but this time it seemed more refined as her gaze snapped towards him in anticipation. Cackling with glee, she fixed her stare to Draco's Mother, who was still in front of him. Something in the way his Aunt looked at his Mother made him feel unpleasant.

Brushing away the strange exchange, Draco's eyes flitted to the other end of the table. A large snake coiled lovingly on the chairs, the table, and on the final occupant of the room.

The Dark Lord.

For the first time Draco clapped eyes on him, he realized that he was no longer a man—could no longer _be_ a man. If the flashing red eyes, or the snake-like nose weren't any indicator, then the inhuman stretch of almost invisible lips that Draco thought was supposed to be a smile definitely was. Almost like when a predator smelled its prey, and its lips expanded as it sniffed. Stopping the involuntary shudder that begged to creep down his spine, Draco shifted under the red-eyed scrutiny.

"Come closer, Draco." The voice was a draft along his skin. Not daring to defy it, he walked as purposefully as he could towards the humanoid snake figure. He came to a stop when he felt the snake was too close for his comfort; a few feet away. The Dark Lord's smile twisted a little, and Draco could see amusement, almost mocking. It made him feel like he was the mouse being dangled for the snake's meal.

There were several uncomfortable minutes spent like this, and Draco felt the odd sensation that his mind was being probed as those red eyes bore into his. Strangely random memories flickered across his mind, some Draco had pushed into the deep, dark depths of his subconsciousness. The memories where his little First Year heart pounded furiously every time he caught a glimpse of bushy brown hair, despite her blood status— _wait_! Draco tore his gaze from him, watching the floor intently, breathing heavy. Angry at himself for casting his mind back to the Mudblood yet _again_ , Draco put the pieces together. He'd heard about Legilimency and Occlumency. Unfortunately, he had no skill in either, so the Dark Lord had just had perfect access to his mind.

"What is it that My Lord desires?" He mumbled to the floor.

"Sit." There was no question about it. Draco obeyed. He was several seats away from that hissing creature, and the snake. "Look at me." Swallowing, he hesitated.

"Draco," his Mother prompted, perhaps a bit nervously, from her side of the room. Jumping slightly (as he'd forgotten about the two women on the other side of the room), Draco did as the Dark Lord requested, making sure to keep his stare just above the red orbs. A cold chuckle reverberated across the room. He could practically hear his Aunt panting, the senile dog that she was.

"Your Father has lost me a very valuable item. In return for his debts, you shall carry the weight of joining my ranks." The pride Draco had from simply the thought of being a Death Eater had deflated. No, he was not chosen for pride, for wealth, for name or for honour…he was chosen for shame, for repayment. This was far from something he could brag about. "After you are given your Mark, you shall be assigned your first task for when you return to school."

"My Lord, I can aid him!" His Aunt eagerly cried. "I can equip him with the skills he requires!" Draco hadn't dared to look away from _him_ as he listened with growing dread to his Aunt's convictions. A mock smirk stretched on those pale lips.

"I shall personally train Draco. He won't be able to feel for Mudbloods when my work is completed this summer." There was a horrible, suffocating band of silence. Draco suddenly found his mouth was very dry; he couldn't even swallow anymore.

"My Lord," he cut in, voice crackled with uncertainty, and snipped the silence unpleasantly, "what you saw was from a very long time ago. I've grown much wiser."

That smirk didn't falter.

"Yet you were thinking of _it_ mere minutes before our meeting."

Draco flinched. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. Yes, he had been thinking about the Mudblood, but he hadn't been _pining_ after her. It was just flicker of a thought, the dying flame of candlelight. Books reminded him of her, that was all. Books, and how her eyes roamed the library ravenously whenever she hadn't noticed him scouring a neighbouring bookshelf. That excited glimmer in her eyes when a teacher uttered a question…she _always_ knew the answer, and it made him crazy—

"My Lord…" His Mother's voice was almost a whisper, an icy breeze in the hollow room. She said no more, but Draco had heard the pleading note. There was no doubt that everyone else had, too.

"Bellatrix, Narcissa, I need to speak with Draco alone." Those words gave Draco the courage to turn away from him to the two women. His Mother was still standing, whilst his Aunt had been perched on the chair. The latter nodded obediently, wild curls quivering as if even _they_ were excited at being in his presence, and immediately headed towards the door. The former stood frozen, paling even further, if that was possible. That storm was raging madly, even Draco could see it from where he was sitting. From the Dark Lord her eyes darted to her son. In the seas of those orbs Draco finally understood her desperation, her frustration…this was not the man Draco's Father had been spinning tales about his whole life. Not one to be admired, at least, but rather to be _feared_. Draco's fear would be his shield from death. The stronger, the better.

" _Cissy_." His Aunt snarled. Jerking from her trance, his Mother reluctantly followed her sister, watching Draco all the way before she closed the door and blocked her face. Never in his life had Draco felt so alone; not even when he was young and craved for other children to play with. A dawning, horrifying realisation fell upon him when he realised that he would soon have to look away from the door.

"Look at me." This time, he did so without hesitation. Even the snake seemed to be studying his every move, and Draco wasn't taking any chances. "That Mudblood is very close to Harry Potter."

"Yes, My Lord." Draco replied, trying not to betray how hard it was for him to speak. There was a thoughtful expression on the Dark Lord's face as he stroked the snake's head in contemplation.

"Should you use your wit, your cunning—which, if you inherited it from your Father, I am sure you have none," a cruel smirk appeared as Draco quickly diminished the twist of anger he felt, "then I believe you can trick it into trusting you. You think about it a great deal, Draco…I have been able to gather a basic of idea of its personality just from your mind. Impressive." That smirk was now positively dangerous. "Mudbloods should not poison your thoughts. But this one has, and we shall use that to our advantage. This one is a creature that can be easily manipulated—it has sympathy for even house elves." The Dark Lord chuckled darkly. That particular memory of her little protest badges ( _pew, or something?)_ wasn't even prominent. The Dark Lord had been digging rather deep. Shame it had to be _her_ that caught his attention. Not only was he now in a precarious situation, but she was now under the Dark Lord's scrutiny.

"What am I to do to it, My Lord?" He asked, almost fearful for the answer.

"Play the victim, Draco. Loose every shred of dignity there is left to the Malfoy name." Draco flinched, shame prickling his insides. "Grovel to this Mudblood of how the Dark Lord has forced you to join his ranks, how you are a coward and can't kill. It will feel sorry for you." By now, Draco's fear had dissolved when red, blind rage consumed it. All the glorious tasks he'd been mapping out in his mind were completely scrapped, replaced by this humiliating one. It was a pathetic act, even if Draco knew it wasn't real; he would _not_ pour such scalding shame on the Malfoy name.

" _No!"_ Draco hissed, without considering _who_ he was talking to. There was a dangerous glint in those red eyes, a twisted smirk marring that inhuman face.

"Do you dare defy the Dark Lord?"

"I will not destroy my family's name." Shaking slightly from anger, and a hint of fear, Draco tried to keep his recently overbearing temper in check. This was the _Dark Lord_. But _he_ was an adolescent and was quite prone to anger. "Give me any other task, that doesn't involve destroying the high reputation that the Malfoys have." An inhuman laugh followed his request.

"The Malfoy reputation has already been diminished, by your Father. After Severus' betrayal—" inwardly, Draco felt a shudder as he remembered seeing those lifeless black eyes of his favourite Professor, a man who was more a father to him than his actual Father. It had turned out he'd been a double spy, and the Dark Lord had not had any mercy for Severus Snape. "—I realised a spy within Dumbledore's ranks was necessary. A new one would do me a great service, and who better for Dumbledore to take under his wing than the struggling Draco Malfoy, suffering from his Father's bad position in Azkaban and his Mother's life under the Dark Lord's hands?" Silence. Except for Draco's heart beating wildly in an array of indignation and fear…he wondered if the Dark Lord could hear it. Something told him that the mention of his Mother's life being in danger was not even a part of the act. Then, "if you will not readily obey my commands, Draco, then I will start your first lesson today." That cold voice had a trace of sick amusement in it. "It will be the lesson of your loyalty to me."

Draco's blood ran cold.

"My Lo—"

" _Crucio_!"

After that day, Draco Malfoy was unsure about many things—of the fate of the Malfoy name, of his parents' fate, of his own fate—but he was certain of one thing: the Dark Lord's orders was law.

He would be the new double spy, by whatever means necessary.

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 _A/N: Don't worry, Hermione's in the next chapter ;)_


End file.
